Too Many Movies?
The North wind was about as strong as you can imagine on a bright January day, long ago on a hilltop called Highland Cemetery South of Stonewall. My wife’s Uncle Jack had died the week before and he wanted to be buried there in Stonewall. So here we all were. I had never met or seen this uncle before, but I noted he looked very respectable in his casket dressed in a fine cowboy suit.
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